


I was made to hate you, but I fell in love instead

by slut_for_jan_and_trixya



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Minor Character Death, Self Harm, Trixie is amazing, but the fluff, not like ahs more like kookie spooky in the woodsie, oh the fluff, there is so much angst, they're witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slut_for_jan_and_trixya/pseuds/slut_for_jan_and_trixya
Summary: Katya is a witch hunter, she has been one for 215 years. Until she meets Trixie, and Trixie causes her to question everything she has ever known.
Relationships: BenDeLaCreme/Jinkx Monsoon, Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would literally love any and all feedback. Seriously. Roast me. I would rather somebody be honest with me.

Katya sighs. It’s been too long. Katya has been doing this since she was fifteen. That makes 215 years. 215 years of doing this and yet this is the longest dry spell she has ever had. Maybe it’s time for her to retire. Maybe she’s grown too old to hunt the way she used to, her aim with her crossbow no longer the bulls-eye precision it used to be. Her traps now take days to string together instead of the odd hour for her hands shake too much. Her poison starting to take longer to brew and its effect weakening. It’s been exactly a month, two days since she has caught one of them. A witch that is. You see, Katya is a witch hunter. A creature unphased by time and incapable of aging after 20, created for the sole purpose of ridding the earth of scum Scum that curse beautiful young women to age and wilt into old hags for their amusement. That cause healthy lads to remain bedridden for months due to their legs being solidified into wood.e

Some are old, their nails blacked and gnarly, hair springing from warts on their faces, wrinkled mossy pounds of skin and fat clinging onto rickety bones. Those are the ones that are easy to spot. And then there are the others, pristine, blemish-free skin, silky auburn hair with a luscious shine and violet eyes so deep they cause all within two feet to fall under their spell. They are easy to spot too. No, it’s the ones who are beautiful, but not unique in their beauty. They are young, but they are not perfect. They are pretty, but they are not pristine. Those are the hard ones. Some days, Katya is glad to have been born a witch hunter. She is glad to watch bitter old women who have left trails of death and agony in their wake die slow and painful deaths. She is happy to watch as the beautiful skin melts before her eyes and the auburn hair crumbles into ash as those who take glee in torturing the innocent are burned the way witches must be. But the normal ones, the ones who have no yet been soured by the hatred of life. The ones that Katya have to kill before they go bad. They always hurt the most because if they were not born to be what they were, they could’ve led lives of such happiness. But no, Kaya must kill them before they turn. The merciful part of her pleads for her to show them pity as they have not yet turned. But the rational part of her knows that you must pull the weed before the entire garden is overrun and so she does her duty. It’s heartbreaking to watch the young women scream, pleading for Katya’s mercy as their zest for life is still so apparent. But Katya has to do it. Or what happened to Beatrice will happen again. 

Beatrice. Her skin the color of the rich coffee they give her in the tavern when they find out she is a witch hunter. Her hair the same dark black as the blood of the witches. A black she has buried her face in and a black that she has seen run down stakes. Her eyes, golden the way the coin they were paid for their labor was. Beatrice was made of witch-hunting. The air she breathed held the scent of witches on the run and the air she exhaled held the scent of witches no longer alive. She was merciless and had an unquenchable blood lust as a witch had cursed her family to crumble to ash. Since then, each and every girl showing signs of witchery, witch or not, she had hunted. Her hands were proudly stained with the oil-like substance of her blood and the sound of their shrieks of agony music to her ears. But Katya had loved her. She had known the side of Beatrice that no one everyone had. She had seen Beatrice cry; she had seen Beatrice suffer. She had seen Beatrice for more than just the blinding rage that forced her to kill. She had seen Beatrice bring her roses with her ale and blush when Katya made a show of sniffing them. She had seen Beatrice hold Katya’s head to her heart as she told her that as long as this heart was beating, she would never leave her. The Beatrice that kissed her neck and reached inside Katya and pulled out noises that she never thought herself capable of making. The Beatrice that bought candy from young urchins as she had been one once and understood the need to fend for oneself. The Beatrice that despite not knowing flour from baking soda, learned to bake Katya’s favorite treats. The Beatrice that she loved. 

It was a warm day, a lazy one. They had spent hours making love to one another as they lay with their legs entangled within one another and with a pile of sullied bed sheets.  
“Not bad, huh?” Katya said, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief.  
“Oh shut up, you uncouth whore.”  
“I’m your uncouth whore though.”  
“Yes, you are.”  
A knock was heard on the door as Katya scrambled to get it, wrapping a silk dressing grown around her skinny frame. She turned back to look a Beatrice, to capture her blissful post-coital stage unaware this would be the last she would ever see of her.  
She opened the door and in front of her stood a familiar face. Jinx Monsoon. Her auburn curls and pained green eyes were the same, but in the place of her grateful smile lay and snarl and bared teeth. The last time she had seen Jinx was nineteen years ago when a twelve-year-old girl so full of livelihood pleaded for her life. In her emerald eyes, Katya saw innocence. Katya saw good. Katya saw Beatrice. But Jinx had changed. Her auburn hair was now streaked with pain and wrinkles of grief gathered near her eyes. She stood, a crossbow in her hands as she stared at Katya, green meeting blue as Katya stared at her in a startled stance.  
“Jinx?”  
“I’m so sorry that it’s come to this, Katya.”  
“Hold on just a second, Jinx. We can talk this out.”  
“She killed my Dela, Katya. My Dela is gone because of her and she took my daughter too. She took my family.”  
“Katya?” Beatrice called from their bedroom unaware of how her life was about to drastically unfold before.  
“Now Jinx please, we can talk this through. Please don’t take her, Jinx. You know what it’s like to lose you’re loved ones. Please, Jinx I don’t have any family left. She’s all I have left. Don’t do this, Don’t be the witch I had to kill. Please, Jinx. Please. No, NO, NO.”  
Two Shots. One through the victim and one through the killer. Though sometimes Katya has trouble with which one is which.

Katya wipes a tear from her eye. It’s been twenty years. Twenty years since Beatrice but yet all she can do it cry. All she can do is sit and wail as she replays her heart and soul being shot down in front of her. She misses Beatrice. She misses her so much. She misses her kisses. She misses her voice. She misses her scent. She misses Beatrice with her entire being. Some days she wishes it had been her instead. That whatever cruel fate lies above in the sky had chosen her instead. But it hadn’t had it. It had taken Beatrice away from her. 

That’s why she will kill as many of them as she can. Good or Bad. Kind or Evil. Young or Old. Jinx was kind. She had been a truly good person. She had children. But she had killed Beatrice hadn’t she? Beatrice is gone because of her. Beatrice wasn't a great person, but she was a good person, but Jinx. Jinx took the one part of Katya that still knew how to love. If JInx can kill, they can all kill. Good or bad, they can kill. That is why Katya will kill before they do. She will cleanse the earth of the darkness that had taken Beatrice from her.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying here. Please roast me gently. Like on medium heat.

One of them. It’s one of them. A surge of relief floods through Katya’s chest. She’s not a failure. She is still a witch hunter. The blood of the killer still courses through her veins. The relief is shattered and remorse runs through her body when she realizes it’s innocent. Her aura radiates youth and kindness yet the familiar stench of witchery corrupts the sweet scent. She looks like a living doll, platinum blonde hair flowing down her back and dark, onyx eyes are set on finding the herbs she knows has led her so deep into the forest. Her rosy lips are pursed with frustration making it evident that she has been searching for a while. Yet, she is not near the traps in the nightshade or the hemlock. She is not near the herbs used to plague entire villages and sicken the healthy. She is near the cookery bushes. She is collecting berries. A gasp leaves Katya’s mouth as she tries to shake away the memory of meeting Jinx. She had met the redhead as she was collecting berries to bake a cake for her mother. No, she cannot create another Jinx. Katya has to kill her. She has to. 

She waits as the witch walks, nearing the trap that Katya has set but not near enough. Come on, she thinks. You can do this; the blackberries are right there. SWOOP. She watches as the iron turns green at the witch’s touch. The satisfying sound of a witch being caught in a net made of iron filling the air and Katya bites her lip as the frightened shrieks of a young woman intermingle. Her eyes widen with panic and she frantically gropes around for the boundaries of the net, trying to find an escape from her prison. The iron is strong and Katya has to suppress the rising pity as she watches the girl wail in fear, as all animals do when suddenly trapped. She shouldn’t have been born a witch. She’s a good one. 

“HELP! WHAT IS THIS! HELP ME! SOMEONE, PLEASE!” The witch shrieks, blinding desperation coloring her tone as Katya closes her eyes. It’s never fun to watch the good ones plead. It never fills her with the satisfaction to hear their screams of fear and cries for her parents. She never likes killing the young ones. She closes her eyes. She can do this. Even if she cannot, she has to do this. She has to do this. If she does not, well she has been acquainted with what happens if she does not. She takes a deep breath. She can do this, and she rising from her crouched state behind an oak tree and walks towards the manically screeching witch. 

“Hi.”

“Huh? Did you do this? Why did you do this? Please tell me out. Please. Please. What did I do to you? What did I do? Please, I have a family! Let me out!”

“I have a family.”

“Huh?"

“I’ve heard that one from a lot of witches.”

“I’m not a witch. Please, you have to believe me. I’m not a witch.”  
“Liar.”  
“I’m not lying. I’m not a witch. I don’t have a mother or a sister. I’m the only woman in my life. Please I’m not a witch.”

“You’re lying because this is Pygmalion iron. It only turns green at the touch of witches.”

“Wh-What?” Katya’s heart clenches. She’s lying because she wants to protect herself. She lying because she wants to protect her ability. The ability to move mountains. The ability to flip a grown man inside out. The ability to shoot an arrow through the only person Katya can ever love. She’s an innocent. She walks towards the girl and she can see her visibly tense as Katya continues to move forward, her knife glittering in the sunlight.

“Hold out your hand.”  
“What?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to prove I know what you are.” The girl stares at her. A void of emotions flashing through her eyes. “Give me your hand.”  
Katya can see every thought that flashes into her mind. She’s beautiful. Not in the way witches are beautiful. She’s beautiful in the sense that a second with her makes you feel her tenderness in her soul. Her hair reminds Katya of the silk that adorns the edges of the dresses that are in fashion now, her skin smooth yet loved by the sun as freckles are scattered across her honey-colored skin. Her eyes the key to the universe and in them Katya can see the fear, but the curiosity. Timidly, she sticks her hand out of the net. Katya scoffs. She’s brave. She does not know Katya but she trusts her. Naïve, but brave. Katya grabs her hand and holds her firmly around the wrist.

“What are you doing. Wait a minute. Why are you taking out a knife? WAIT. STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Ow!” Katya has cut a line down her hand and a satisfied smile illuminates her face as she watches a line of black blood trickle down her hand. She releases the girl's arm from her gloved hand and watches are she immediately clutches her hand and tends to it, the fear in her eyes suddenly intensifying.

“Your parents would never let you play with the other children, would you. They told you were born different and that you were normal in every other way, did they not.” The girl bites her lips as tears begin to rim her eyes. “You’re a witch. Except you knew that didn’t you.” The girl nods hesitantly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cradles her knees in her arms. “And you know what I am too, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes.” She stutters, her desolation corrupting the purity of her voice. “You’re one of them.”

“One of them?”

“You’re a witch hunter.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Katya smiles. She loves talking to them before she puts them to sleep. It’s fun, to prod the corrupted ones and mock them and to soothe and comfort the isn’t ones. This girl needs comforting, and Katya maybe two hundred and thirty years old, but she is not devoid of sincerity.

“Please don’t kill me. I promise I’m not a bad one.” She sobs and her tears fall through the net, staining the red earth below her.  
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Beatrice, but my friends call me Trixie.” Beatrice. This girl. This terrified, lonely and most importantly, innocent child is Beatrice. No, she can not be. The kind the mercilessly slaughtered her lover can not bear the same as her. Beatrice and the creature that lays before cannot share the same name. They cannot. Fate is not so cruel as to taunt Katya this way. Yet in this girl's eyes she can see the fighting spirit. She can see the love for life and the love for living that Beatrice once had. She is young like Beatrice was. And she is free like Beatrice was.

“Beatrice?

“Yeah, but call me Trixie. I never liked that name.”

“I knew a Beatrice. She’s gone now. Witches.” Katya chuckles remorsefully.

“Well, I’m not Beatrice. I’m Trixie.”

“Trixie, huh?”

“Yeah.”  
“I’m sorry we ended up here Trixie.”

Trixie. She tastes the sound of the name. It sounds sweet, like the sugar that they mix in with tea at the local pubs. Sweet, like the nectar of honeysuckles on a particularly warm summer day. Of course, Trixie is the name that belongs to this radiant, carefree creature. This creature that traveled deep into the wood for berries simply because she liked them. This creature that wore periwinkle clothing despite the journey one must embark on. This creature that is a witch, but at the same time, everything the opposite of witchery. Witchery is dark and murky, tainting all that it touches. She is clean and pristine, purity radiating from her spirit and it clashes with the innate instinct that witchery has embedded within her soul. She is more innocent than the other innocents and it is with this name. This stupid, whimsical name, that Katya realizes she cannot kill Trixie. To kill Trixie would be to kill Beatrice. And despite everything Beatrice as done, that is one thing Katya will never do.

“what’s your name?”

“Katya.”

“My younger sister was called Katya. We called her Katie. Katie, Jaime, and Trixie.”

“Was?”

“She’s gone now. A witch hunter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. You don’t have to be like your kind, Katya. Please don’t do this to me."

She’s right. Katya can’t do this to her. But she can’t let her go. But she can’t keep her hostage. Wait. Can she? She’s had a spare room in the cottage for fifty years. If she locked it well enough...

“I’m not going to kill you.” Trixie’s eyes widen as a glimmer of hope flashes through her eyes.

“Thank you, Katya. Thank you, Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“I’m not setting you free either.” A frown settles onto the once smiling face.

“What?”

“I’m keeping you in this room in my house. I know what witchery can do and I will not unleash another witch into the world because I was too soft to rid society of their filth. I-I-I won’t let what  
happened to Beatrice happen again.”

“You’re going to keep me hostage?”

“If you stay still, then yes. But if you refuse, I kill you. Trixie stills, frantically contemplating her options. And then it appears. The fighting fire that rages within all the witches before her. She bites her lips and closes her eyes, holding her hands together for Katya to tie as broken-hearted sobs escape her mouth. Katya sighs. This is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked that, oh and prepare. Prepare for typos galore.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all. I'm back with another shitpost. I hope you enjoy the typos.

Katya, famous witch hunter, merciless killer, burner of many, has a witch hostage in her home and has not killed her yet. She scoffs at the absurdity of the situation. She is a witch hunter. She has been one for two centuries. She has watched as the filth on this earth dissolve into ashes, wrongful or not. Yet, there is a witch in front of her and she has not killed her yet. 

It has been a week, and if the word “wrong” has a purpose in its creation it would be to describe the circumstances she has put her and Trixie into. They dance a dangerous tango around each other, Trixie securely locked in the room that used to be Beatrice’s weaponry, her whimpers of fear echoing through the blood-stained walls. Katya understands. Her heart cracks into smaller shards as she listens to Trixie cry for her brother and for the comfort of her home. It is not easy to stand in a butcher’s room of her kind. Katya yearns to comfort the poor girl but reason beckons. She is a witch hunter; she is not sparing the girl. She is simply figuring out what to do with her.

Katya sees Trixie only thrice a day, all three for meal deliveries and she sits on a wooden stool, watching as the starved maiden scarfs down mediocre meals and graciously thank Katya for her kindness. Kindness. Katya scoffs to herself. Katya is anything but kind. She has kidnapped, Trixie, the kindest of souls for a crime no harsher than the blood that flows through her veins. There are witches that stay clean. There are witches that are not soured by life and remain the way Trixie is. Pure. Trixie is so pure. When Katya brings her meals, she always smiles. Grateful for the somber company. She apologies for burdening Katya and asks her polite questions as Katya, her captor traps her in a room where her former love hung weapons of carnage. Yet, she has chosen to be kind to Katya. To show a loving mercy towards her simply by thanking her for her company. This confuses Katya to no end. Why? What has Katya done to deserve this benevolence? Katya knows that she is not a good person. She has come from a long, long line of murderers. Each leaving a trail of corpses in their wake. Katya has led one of the longest. She is by no means a good person, so why is Trixie showing her kindness. It is apparent that Trixie understands that her days are numbered, she has seen the bloodstains. She has sensed the spirits of her fallen kin in the room. Trixie is pure, but she is not stupid. She knows her body will soon be wrapped around a stake. So why? Why, has she chosen to be kind?

Ding. Ding. Ding. The bell chimes. It’s mealtime. A gulp forms in Katya’s throat as she hastily gathers a roasted pheasant, berries and wild cabbage salad onto a plate. She holds it firmly one hand and in the other a warm mug of spiced wine to calm Trixie’s evident nerves. She walks with her heart thumping rapidly in her chest towards the door of the weaponry in which lay the farthest thing for a weapon. It’s funny, Katya has known Trixie for seven days and already she can tell the gentleness of her soul. She could never and would never hurt. But Katya has to kill her. She has to.

“Trixie?” She hears the frantic scrambled of the chained girl and can already see her straightening her posture and fixing her hair. Otherwise, Katya can not comprehend how she looks so flawless despite her supposedly ragged state. “Are you decent?”  
“Yes? “Katya bites her lip, turning the handles of the door.  
“HI.” Trixie sits there on the floor. Her body curled in on itself, wrists and ankles reddened from the constant pressure from the chains. Her head of hair still perfectly styled as she pressed her face against the disgusting filth of the walls. The innate wrongness of something so pure against something so contaminated made Katya’s heard hurt.

“H-Hi.” The sound of Trixie’s tearful hiccups made Katya’s heart clench and mouth dry.  
“It’s eight o'clock. I thought you might be hungry so I have some food for you.” Trixie lifted her head to face Katya, revealing swollen red eyes continuing to tear at a rapid rate. 

“I’m sorry, Trixie. I’m so sorry.” Katya says, wary of the tears that threaten to spill from her own eyes. This is wrong. This is so wrong. Trixie shouldn’t be here. She should be home with her family and her brother and her berries laughing about stupid things that families laugh at. The only family that Katya ever had was killed by an arrow through the heart, she may never have a family but Trixie makes her want to try. Because if a family produces people like Trixie, could it really be such a bad thing. 

“It’s okay, Katya. I just-I just miss my brother a lot.”  
“You’re brother?”  
“Jaime. He turns twenty in a week and I miss his stupid face. Funny how you don’t miss your siblings until you leave them and then all you want is to fight over mulberries with them. Do you have any siblings?”  
“I have a sister. Sasha. I’m happy I don’t see her. Our father died because of her. Our mother followed soon due to a broken heart. She’s ruthless. She doesn’t kill for anger or revenge or duty, she kills for pleasure. She kills because she likes watching people suffer before she dies.” Trixie reaches out, holding Katya’s blood-sullied hands in her morally pristine ones. It’s oddly comforting to know her hostage cares. That although she is keeping her captive in her home, Katya is important. “I watched as she skinned our father alive and forced our mother to watch. There was so much blood. So much. She cupped it to her lips and drank it as he screamed in pain, claiming that she had never felt so alive. She forced my mother to watch. Sasha tied her to a chair and watched as she skinned the love of her life in front of her. Sasha has 7, I was 19. Witch hunters stop aging after they turn twenty. They start witch-hunting at fifteen. They are our first and second ascensions, so any crime that a with commits before their ascension goes unpunished by the council. Sasha has not punished. In fact, she was praised as my mother had always opposed killing the way we do. Her death was considered a triumph to many of our elders. They weaponized my little sister. So I’m more than happy that she doesn’t know where I am. I could never kill her and any contact with her would mean death.” Trixie brushes her hand against Katya’s face. Her cool skin brushing off the tear that has silently begun to fall down her face.

“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry, Katya. I still cry for Katie every year.”  
“You said a witch-hunter killed your family.”  
“Yes.”  
“I told you how a witch hunter took my family, can you tell me how a witch hunter took yours?” Trixie smiles, her eyes shining with grief as it is obvious that the memories take a toll on her. Katya is curious though. Witch hunters very rarely kill children, and there are only two witch hunters Katya has met bloodthirsty enough to do so. Katie must have either exhibited extreme powers or it was the latter. For Trixie’s sake, she sincerely hoped that Katie had powers. Tears have openly begun to fall down her cheeks as she prepares to tell the tale and Katya has to physically restrain herself from cradling the girl in her arms.

“Around twenty ago, when I was seven, I decided to go to the village and pick up some bread from the grocers because we were running low. A family of five is always bound to be running low on bread somehow. I went out and on the way back I heard screams. I saw my mother pleaded for her daughter’s life as the witch hunter pressed a knife to Katie’s neck. My mothers were magic resistant, they had refused to learn magic, shunning the dark arts and even going so far as befriending witches. So no matter what happened they were powerless to stop Katie. And so was I. So I watched as this woman covered her hands in the blood of my ten-year-old sister. I heard my mothers screech as one attacked the witch hunter and soon the knife plunged out of Katie and into her heart. My mother only survived because my mother told the witch hunter she wasn’t a witch on her deathbed to protect her. I watched as my mother held both the bodies of the love of her life and her favorite child. She was everyone’s favorite child. You couldn’t help but love Katie. The girl exuded happiness. The next day, my mother left the town, taking away another member of my family and crossbow leaving only a letter and a lock of her hair.” Trixie reaches into her dress and pulls out a small golden necklace bearing a silver locket engraved with her initials and unclasps it. In there lies a small lock of the most beautiful, amber hair that Katya has seen. Amber hair that Katya has seen before. 

No. NO. NO. Beatrice did not kill this girl’s parents. She did not take everything this angelic figure of purity had from her and turn Jinx Monsoon from a passive, magic resistant witch into everything she wished not to become. No. Sobs wrack Katya’s body and concern floods Trixie’s face as she pulls Katya close into her body, wrapping her arms around and whispering soft words of comfort into her tangled bedhead. No. Fate cannot be so cruel to her. Beatrice cannot be so cruel to her. Why, Trixie? Why does fate pile on such sorrow onto this being of light and sincerity that denies everything she was born to be. Why did fate order the death of parents who raised their children with love and compassion only to rob them of parenthood at so early a stage? Why? The questions pile on as the sorrow hits the bodies of the two young women with such grief that all they can do is cling onto one another and like a lifeboat in a storm. They are each other’s tethering point to the earth and for a second, life without one another seems impossible. 

“You knew her didn’t you.” Katya nods.  
“I didn’t just know her. I loved her. She was Beatrice. My family took yours and your family took mine. I have the crossbow your mother took.” Trixie suddenly recoils looking at Katya with a sudden accusation that was formerly unpresent. It hurts Katya’s heart. “I met your mother when she was twelve. I remember Jinx. I remember her hair. I don’t think I could ever forget her hair, even if I tried. She was lost and a powerful witch at the time. But she was kind. She was so kind. As I tied her to the stake and when I asked her if she had any last words, all she said was “I forgive you.” And with that, I knew I could not kill her. It did not matter the punishment I received from the council, I was not killing this girl. I let her go and she thanked me. I told her not to return to this area, for it is filled with witch hunters. Where I met her is near where I met you. You remind me of her you know. I’ve only ever spared two witches. You and your mother. But I regretted that because nineteen years later She came back and killed the only person I have ever loved. The woman who killed your sister was a monster, but the woman I loved was a different person.” Trixie stares at her for a minute and the two simply gaze into each other’s eyes. They have the same build and the same milky white skin dotted with freckles. The same fighting spirit and most importantly, the same purity.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“What?”  
“I know I’m not her mother but I’m sorry for her actions,” Sorry. This twenty-seven-year-old girl is sorry for the actions of one of the kindest woman she has ever known who only soured due to the actions of Katya’s lover. Once again, Katya is taken aback by the sheer goodness that lies in Trixie’s heart. 

“I’m sorry for my lover’s actions. I loved Beatrice. I loved her a lot, but her reckless killing I do not condone.” Katya blinks. She cannot keep Trixie hostage. She deserves to be set free into the world like the angel that she is. But Katya can not knowingly create another Jinx.

“You have a month to prove to me that you are not your mother. That you will not kill another woman’s Beatrice. You prove this to me in a month and I set you free. You do not then..Well you'll know what I have to do. ”

“I don’t need a month.” A cocky smile appears and it is at that moment that, that integral yet insignificant moment. That Katya, the fearless, skilled, revered, hardened, soulless witch hunter dies another is reborn. Katya does not know it but in her soul blossoms a seed that Trixie has unknowingly planted and attends to with care. In short, Katya has fallen in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that. If you did, leave a comment. If you didn't leave a comment. If you don't give a flying fuck, leave a comment.


	4. 4

A month passes and the two have formed a loving routine. Trixie cooking meals for Katya whilst Katya tells her stories of her most epic adventurers, steering clear of the stories where women like Trixie succumbed to the flame. They sleep in the same bed as according to Katya, Trixie “will not sleep on the floor like some animal.” And so they rest together, Katya’s chest pressed against Trixie’s back, waiting for the taller girl to fall asleep. When the sounds of gentle slumber fill the bedroom she traces the freckles on her back, marveling in the constellations that rest in her skin for everything loves Trixie. The sun. The earth. The sky. The witch hunter. They are all entranced by this godly being who has so suddenly entered their lives. But Katya should not love her. She cannot love her. She cannot fall in love. She cannot fall victim to feminine and romantic wiles. Not with the dangers that come with her existence. She is an immortal being created with the sole purpose of killing her kind, Trixie is the last person she should fall in love with.

Yet loving her feels different. It feels easy. Like Katya has never been hurt and never will be hurt. Something that feels so right, like they were two stones carved to fit into the crevices of one another. Two halves of a whole. She makes Katya happy with her loving nature and sassy demeanor, leaving Katya breathless and wanting nothing more than to bask in the glow of this deity of perfection. There is an invincibility that comes along with loving Trixie, that so long as Trixie lives and breathes Katya will do whatever she wishes for. She wants to lavish Trixie with diamonds, feed her the finest meals and listen to her moans of contentment. Well, she’d rather hear her moans of contentment in a different form. But for now, Katya will settle for listening to this blonde creature that has exploded into her life scream laugh when Katya reveals that her middle name is Gertrude. Somehow everything about Trixie is perfect. From the streaks of platinum in her honey blonde to the softness of her hands when they caress Katya’s. She is so perfect; it is almost wrong. There is nothing about Trixie that does not entice Katya to her. Her brazen sense of humor. Her full, cherry blossom lips. Her eyes, twinkling with mischief. Her undeniable love for agriculture. Every part of her is perfect. There is no ugly for Katya to endure because nothing about loving Trixie is difficult. Katya never has to work to love her, to remind herself. Even when Trixie screams in the night, memories of Beatrice’s cruelty haunting her twenty years from now. Even when she showed Katya the scars on her torso where lesser witch hunters have attempted to take her life. Even when she vomited due to her allergy to sweet peas. All of the ugly becomes beautiful and Katya wants nothing more than to kiss away the scars that life has left on her. She remembers when Trixie told her of the depths of her pain. They were eating when Trixie suddenly blurted out four words. Four stupid, condemning words that broke Katya’s heart. into two.

_Four days ago._

_“I wanted to die.” The world stops. Katya’s spoon falls from her hand and into her stew. “It was a year after my mom disappeared. Well, died. I remember feeling so alone that I thought that there was nothing. Nothing in this world that could have saved me from myself. So I-I” Her lip quivers as she raises her sleeves and reveals the remnants of her grief along her arm as she bursts into tears. There are scars. Horrific scars that are raised against her perfect skin. The only flaws that her body possesses. Katya moves to hold the girl in her arms as Trixie collapses into sobs. No. No. The world is not allowed to take Trixie from her. The world has taken enough from Katya and she is suddenly flooded by an overwhelming wave of gratitude that Trixie’s actions had no fallout and that the angel that stands before is still here. She wants nothing more than to cradle the girl in her arms and whisper sweet nothings into her ear until the world seems fair again._

_“I-I’m so sorry.”_

_“For what? What exactly have you done wrong?”_

_“I’m sorry for making this harder than it already is for you. I shouldn’t have told you that. I shouldn’t have made it harder for you.” Katya simply shushes the girl and presses her wrists to her lips. Somehow even the rough abrasions are beautiful. Even these marks of cruelty on her are beautiful. Beautiful not because they have hurt Trixie, beautiful because they are part of Trixie. She wishes she could protect Trixie from all the malice that the world holds but she is a witch hunter, not a god. All she can do is wrap her arms around her shoulders as the poor girl continues to tear herself into pieces._

A shudder runs through her body at the memory and Katya continues to polish the blade that lays neglected on her lap. It’s rusty. Not with witch’s blood, but with animal’s. She hasn’t killed a witch since Trixie arrived into her life and thought of never doing in again emerges in her head. No. NO. She was born this way. She was made this way. This is what she has done for centuries. She cannot abandon an age-old tradition no matter her love for her family. But can she do it for Trixie? Can she walk away from all the blood, all the murder, all the innocent lives taken, for Trixie? Can she turn her back from her duty, from all she has ever known for Trixie? Can she put down the crossbow and with it the only remnant of her family that she has left? She sighs. These thoughts are too heavy for so early in the morning. She gets up from her bed, prepared to hunt the food that Trixie will turn into surprisingly good cooking. There Trixie stands in a hand made indigo dress, the violet bringing out the gold flecks in her eyes. They light up. The way they always do when Katya walks into a room.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Where are you, going?”

“Hunting, any berries you want.”

“No I’m good.” Trixie smiles before walking over to Katya and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, turning the ivory skin scarlet. “I’ll see you, later?” “Yeah.” “Bye, Bye.” She returns to the chores she was previously doing and Katya watches, an eerie feeling of déjà vu returns as she walks out the door. A feeling she had last felt when she saw Beatrice for the final time.

We’re finally writing in Trixie’s POV y’all. WOOOO Trixie returns to scrubbing the hardwood tables as Katya walks away, the feeling of coarse, seasoned skin against her lips. A feeling she could get used to.

For the past few weeks, she has been a hostage in a witch hunter’s fortress. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like flowers blooming slowly in Trixie’s chest. It feels like fruit so ripe, it may nearly spoil. It feels like the summer wine, bittersweet yet enticing. Something Trixie has only seen once before in her life. Memories of her mother’s bantering in the kitchen as the press their lips together enter her mind as she wonders if she has what they had. Katya is a witch hunter but she is nothing like the formers who slaughtered her mothers and tried to slaughter her. She is kind and gentle, holding Trixie close in her arms when she cries out in fear. Katya laughs at her jokes no matter how terrible they are for the sole purpose of seeing Trixie happy. She brings back flowers for Trixie because she feels guilt for keeping her captive. When she thinks Trixie is asleep she apologizes to her, professing the sorrow of her life and how Trixie is the one thing that makes her feel alive again. Katya is a witch hunter but not to Trixie. To Trixie, she is the woman that Trixie is very slowly beginning to fall in love with. Because in her heart she knows that Katya may have captured her but Trixie can be released. The one thing that Katya has captured that cannot be released is her heart. No, Trixie has unknowingly devoted her entire heart and soul to Katya and for some reason, she isn’t angry about it. She is happy to simply revel in the simplicity of their domestic life. Katya doesn’t say it but she knows Katya has not killed in a while. The scent of witch blood is barely left, animals blood returning instead.

All her life, Trixie has had somebody to love. Her friends, her adoptive parents, her brother. And the love has been reciprocated but Katya. Katya loves her in a way that no one else has and Trixie doesn’t know whether or not to be scared to revel. She worries that she will disappoint Katya. That this lovable, timeless woman will see how deeply, irreversibly flawed she is and see her as that damaged goods that she has long ago accepted as being. It’s sad but it’s the truth. But when Katya smiles, Trixie feels calm as if all is right in the world. No matter how damaged, how broken, how pained that she is; Katya is happy, so something must be right in the world. Life is cruel, but it is kind enough to let Katya and Trixie’s intertwine and Trixie knows. She knows, for sure that if Katya offered for her to stay, she would accept without hesitation.

SLAM.

Her thoughts are suddenly disrupted by the sound of the door being abruptly kicked open and behind it stands a bald, curious-looking woman reeking of death and witch blood. She stands with a devilish expression on her unique features and an arched, overgrown eyebrow. Trixie doesn’t have time to process her thoughts before the woman plunges a small dart into her neck and the world goes dark.

 _Am I dead?_ She thinks _Is this hell? No. That Beatrice woman isn’t here._ The name stirs up jealousy inside her and until recently she didn’t know why. She opens her eyes and there is the woman, dressed in fur, dyed black by witch blood sitting by the furnace. She watches Trixie with an intelligent eye, studying her every move as if she is some experiment.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“Who are you,” Trixie responds. She will nod give her name until this stranger reveals her identity.

“Sasha.” Trixie’s blood runs cold at the sound of the name. Sasha, Witch Hunter. Killer. Torturer. Wretched. Blood-thirsty. A plethora of words come to Trixie’s mind when describing the famed witch hunter with almost three hundred kills in the past year. Even before Katya told her of Sasha, she knew of the reaper of death long before Katya’s story.

“You’re Katya’s sister.”

“Yes.”

“If I’m right, I should be dead by now.”

“Not really. You live with her, so she loves you.” Trixie blushes. Yes, Katya loves her. And the thought makes her warm despite knowing a certain painful death awaits her. “Oh, and someone loves her back.” “So?” “So it’s just going to hurt more when I make her watch you die.” A malicious smile forms as she continues to sharpen the knife in front of her. No. She will kill Katya after her. Trixie can die, she has always been expendable but Katya. Katya is priceless. She is invaluable. She must be protected. No. Trixie cannot let this woman kill Katya.

“Trixie?” Katya. No. No, Katya please don’t answer the door. Run. Run far away, Katya. Run. Sasha winks at Trixie before moving to open the door.

“I’ve got a couple of pigeons, I was think-Sasha.” She says, her tone suddenly cold. The Katya that she knows is gone. In her place is Katya the witch hunter. Katya the ruthless killer. Katya the woman who Trixie desperately hopes can take on her sister.

“How ya doing, Yekaterina.”

“You are not welcome here, Alexandra.”

“Oh please. You’re harboring a witch. You think I wouldn’t come find you?”

“How did you find me.”

“After that first whore-“

“Don’t call Beatrice a whore."

“After she died, I thought you might kill yourself and though to myself. Sasha, do you really want to miss out on watching your incompetent finally, FINALLY die. Of course, I did.”

“Why didn’t you just kill me then?”

“And risk getting into trouble with the council? Nah, it’s waaaaay easier to just kill humans instead. You like my coat?”

“You’re a psychopath.” “Maybe, but you’re a traitor and you remember what happened to Auntie Jackie didn’t you?”

“They burned her at the stake.” “DING. DING. DING. You’re a traitor, Katya. You always have been. Kill the witch and I’ll consider letting you go. Skin her. Like I did to the slacker we called our father.” Trixie looks to Katya. She has to do this. And Trixie nods her head, doing her best to tell Katya that it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care how she dies. As long as Katya lives and breathes, she can die as painful a death as she needs to. Katya is the only thing that matters. The only thing that she loves. Katya has to survive. She has to love her.

“Is that hesitation I see?” Sasha taunts. “You’ve grown soft, sister.”

“And you’ve grown cruel.”

“No. I grew up. You’ve always lived as our traitor mother did. Did you know she slept with a human? Grant you, she didn’t fall in love with him but she slept with him. Remember how I punished her? But you, Katya, OH you have messed UP. You’re in love with her.” “

Yes, but she doesn’t care about me.” No. Trixie wants to scream. The words cannot leave her mouth. Katya is the only good thing left in Trixie’s life. She is the only light left in Trixie’s world of darkness. She is kind and she is good and she does not deserve to die like this. Trixie loves Katya with her entire heart and her entire body. If she survives this ordeal and Katya doesn’t, she will not survive at all. But Katya cannot die thinking that Trixie does not love her, because Trixie would move heaven and earth for Katya. If she could, Trixie would give the sun and stars because only those gifts are worthy to bask in Katya’s grace. All the beauties in the world cannot hold a finger to Katya as she is the most beautiful thing in the world. She has ruined love for Trixie because after Katya, Trixie has no hope of ever loving again. All she wants is Katya forever. Katya’s face, Katya’s scars. Katya’s tears. Katya’s past. Katya’s fears Katya’s voice. Katya’s lips. All of it.

“That’s not true.” She says. If she dies, she might as well die saying what she believes in. “I do care about you.”

“But you’re in love with her, Katinka,” Sasha smirks. “And since you’ve so rudely refused. I think I’ll just have to finish the job. Say goodbye to your whore.”

“Sasha. NO. Sasha don’t do this. SASHA.”

The knife.

There’s so much blood. So much.

But all she can see is Katya. Katya and her radiant face trembling with fear. Katya and her eyes welling up with tears as she pushes the blade further in.

"Sasha. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, sister." Tears choking her words. 

She stabbed Sasha. She killed her sister.

For Trixie, Katya has killed her sister.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma be jumping in between Trixie and Katya's povs in this one so buckle up, friends.

Sasha. Sasha. Her voice echoes in her head as her eyes blur with tears at the sight in front of her. The murderous force to be reckoned with lying limp in her arms as a trail of blood trickles down her mouth. Katya has killed Sasha. Her baby sister. The little girl who cried when she fell down. The little girl that ate vegetarian because she didn’t want to kill the animals whom she was besotted with. The little girl who murdered their father in cold blood to punish their mother for adultery. The woman who killed masses, innocent or not for the sole purpose of pleasure. Tears fall from her neck as she watches Sasha’s piercing eyes slowly go cold as her body falls slack into Katya’s arms. There’s blood. A lot of it. It coats her hands, the stain reminding Katya of her treachery. She killed a witch hunter. A kindred spirit. An action for which there is a high price to pay. But Sasha was going to kill Trixie. She was going to take Trixie away the way the world had taken Beatrice away. She was going to kill Katya’s sole reason to live. Katya had lost a lot, but she was not willing to lose Trixie. Funny how this very morning she had contemplated whether or not to choose her family over Trixie and in her arms lay the cold dead body of her the only family she had left. But Trixie is alive. Beautiful, funny, kind Trixie is alive. She is salvation. She is Katya’s past, present, and future. She is everything Katya has and she is everything that Katya wants. Two hundred and thirty years of butchery. It is time for it to end. It is time for Katya to put the torch down, she will no longer watch as innocent woman burst into flames because of the evil that they might have. Yes, not all witches are good, but are all humans? Are all witch hunters? No species is completely good. No species is clean of the darkness that clouds the earth. If she can forgive Jinx. She can forgive witch kind. She can walk away from this murky business that she was born into. With Trixie or not. She is done. The council will tell her that it runs in her blood but this is where the blood runs out. Katya refuses to continue to be part of this mindless bloodshed that their kind have created. It is immoral. It is dark. It is wrong. Killing women like Trixie is wrong, and if Katya had to kill Sasha to prove it to herself, then fine. She has lost a sister but she has regained a conscience. It’s clear again. The world is no longer blurry, clarity reigns and she can see the body that she holds tightly in her arms all the more clearly. The dagger sticking out of her jagged skin, the blood-stained clothes that remain the same color, the end of the reckless carnage Sasha caused.

“Katya” A frightened voice pulls her back to reality. There is a girl tied to a chair. A girl that Katya would give the world to if she could. A girl that she has just killed her family for. A girl that she will continue to kill for if she has to. A girl that wholly owns her heart and Katya has no intention of ever asking for it back. A sob comes escapes from Trixie’s body as Katya runs to release her bonds. Her heart breaks as Trixie sobs. This angel of light should not be crying. She should not be feeling any pain at all. She should live a life of happiness and ease. A life that Katya will do her best to give to her.

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

“You killed her.” Trixie trembled, fear vibrating through her body. Fear of Katya? No, She is not recoiling from her touch. She is not flinching as Katya rubs her arms down to soothe her. No, she’s worried for Katya. The fear is not for her own life; it is for Katya’s. “Witch hunters can’t kill each other.”

“No, they can’t. They’ll notice she’s missing when the summer solstice arrives and Sasha isn’t there. Then they find the person responsible and then… well, you know what happens.”

“Katya, what have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Oh my god, they're going to kill you. Katya, you have to hide, the solstice is in a week. They’ll come to find you and when they smell witch hunter blood they will-” The thought is too much for Trixie. “NO. We have to hide you, Katya. You can’t die, I won't let you. We’ll find a- “

“I’m going to the council.”

“What?”

“I’m going to council with Sasha’s body and they’re going to burn me at the stake.”

“WHAT?”

“If they find me in a week’s time I’m just going to die a slower and more painful death. I either die by 66 cuts or burned at the stake. If I go early, they might be merciful. Also, if I go, they never know you existed. They never know that I…I…that I care about a witch. You deserve so much more than being a hostage for the rest of your life. You’re free to go You were free to go the moment I met you. You have shown me that witches are good. That witches are kind. That witches are not all that I was taught they were. I’ve killed so many innocent women, Trixie. If I’m dying, I deserve it.” She does deserve it. She deserves to burn at the stake like the many women she has killed have. They didn’t deserve to die. They have not reached into families and stolen daughters and mothers. They are not a monster. Katya is a monster, not the witches. She deserves to die.

“No.”

“Trixie, my mind is made up. The area I found you is two miles east of this cottage. You are free, Trixie.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to go.”

“Trixie, there is no saving the damned.”

“You’re not damned. You are defeated, you’re giving up-“

“I’m not giving up, Trixie. I’m letting go of all the pain I have caused.”

“BUT YOU HAVN’T CAUSED ANY PAIN!”

“YES I HAVE!” Katya screams, tears dripping down her face. “I HAVE KILLED SO MANY WOMEN. WOMEN LIKE YOU. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I’M INNOCENT. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME, I’M GOOD BECAUSE I’M NOT. I’M A MONSTER. A MONSTER WHO MURDERS-”

“NOT TO ME.” Katya pauses, her breath caught in her throat. “To me, you are the witch hunter kind enough to spare my life while talented enough to take it whenever you wanted. You are the witch hunter who released me from my chains because you believed that this creature you were bred to hate is a good person and so you gave her a chance. You are the witch hunter that brings me back my favorite fruits that I KNOW are hard to find just to see me smile. You are the witch hunter who for some reason doesn’t know the difference between belladonna and mint. You are the witch hunter who sent a letter to my family for me so they wouldn’t be worried and pretended not to tell me because you didn’t want me to get attached to you. You are the witch hunter who didn’t scream or judge or yell at me when I cried or lashed out. You are the witch hunter who smiles and it feels like worlds are colliding in my chest. You are the witch hunter whose touch makes me feel like nothing in the world can or will ever hurt me. You are the witch hunter who makes me feel safe when nothing in the world. And if that makes you a monster than I don’t know a person who isn’t one. You are one of the best people a know. You were made to be a weapon, Katya. It isn’t you’re fault for acting like one. But you are strong. You are so strong. You rose above the hatred they instilled within you and you said no. You said you will not kill this witch. You are kind. You are brave. You are everything that I didn’t know I needed and GODDAMNIT I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I THOUGHT WAS POSSIBLE. And if you die. If you walk into the lion’s den and I never see you again, I die too. If you die, I die. I have attached my heart with yours so if you burn it down, don’t think for a second that I can’t feel it!” Trixie stands there gasping, exhausted by the weight of her confession. She stands with tears dripping angrily down her face. She loves Katya, and she will be damned if Katya doesn’t know that. 

Katya lets out a soft chuckle as tears continue to fall down her eyes as she takes the taller girl by the waist and looks her directly in her eyes. Trixie has the most beautiful eyes. To everyone else in the world she has plain eyes, boring eyes. To Katya, the deep shade of brown is unlike anything she has ever seen before. It is yesterday, today and tomorrow. It is all she ever wants to look at. All she ever wants to do is stay in this moment, barely touching Trixie but instead, admiring the artistry that God created her with. She raises her hand and strokes Trixie’s cheek as she brings them closer together, inhaling the air that Trixie exhales. She tastes like strawberries. Slowly she tilts her head to the side. It would be so easy. SO easy just to merge their rosy lips together but she can’t.

“Katya, kiss me.”

“If I kiss you, my love. I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t. Runaway with me.”

“And when they find me and burn you by my side? I will not let you die, you are my family, the light of my life. You are the kindness, the sorrow, the joy, the pain; you are all of it. I can’t let joy die. I can’t. You know this.”

“Don’t walk away from me, Katya.”

“I love you. I always will.” She turns away and walks into the kitchen, in her hands a tablecloth.

Sasha. Sasha. Her voice echoes in her head as her eyes blur with tears at the sight in front of her. The murderous force to be reckoned with lying limp in her arms as a trail of blood trickles down her mouth. Katya has killed Sasha. Her baby sister. The little girl who cried when she fell down. The little girl that ate vegetarian because she didn’t want to kill the animals whom she was besotted with. The little girl who murdered their father in cold blood to punish their mother for adultery. The woman who killed masses, innocent or not for the sole purpose of pleasure. Tears fall from her neck as she watches Sasha’s piercing eyes slowly go cold as her body falls slack into Katya’s arms. There’s blood. A lot of it. It coats her hands, the stain reminding Katya of her treachery. She killed a witch hunter. A kindred spirit. An action for which there is a high price to pay. But Sasha was going to kill Trixie. She was going to take Trixie away the way the world had taken Beatrice away. She was going to kill Katya’s sole reason to live. Katya had lost a lot, but she was not willing to loose Trixie. Funny how this very morning she had contemplated whether or not to choose her family over Trixie and in her arms lay the cold dead body of her the only family she had left. But Trixie is alive. Beautiful, funny, kind Trixie is alive. She is salvation. She is Katya’s past, present and future. She is everything Katya has and she is everything that Katya wants. Two hundred and thirty years of butchery. It is time for it to end. It is time for Katya to put the torch down, she will no longer watch as innocent woman burst into flames because of the evil that they might have. Yes, not all witches are good, but are all humans? Are all witch hunters? No species is completely good. No species is clean of the darkness that clouds the earth. If she can forgive Jinx. She can forgive witch kind. She can walk away from this murky business that she was born into. With Trixie or not. She is done. The council will tell her that it runs in her blood but this is were the blood runs our. Katya refuses to continue to be part of this mindless blood shed that their kind have created. It is immoral. It is dark. It is wrong. Killing women like Trixie is wrong, and if Katya had to kill Sasha to prove it to herself, then fine. She has lost a sister but she has regained a conscience. It’s clear again. The world is no longer blurry, clarity reigns and she can see the body that she holds tightly in her arms all the more clearly. The dagger sticking out of her jagged skin, the blood stained cloths that remain the same color, the end of the reckless carnage Sasha caused.

“Katya” A frightened voice pulls her back to reality. There is a girl tied to a chair. A girl that Katya would give the world to if she could. A girl that she has just killed her family for. A girl that she will continue to kill for if she has to. A girl that wholly owns her heart and Katya has no intention of ever asking for it back. A sob comes escapes from Trixie’s body as Katya runs to release her bonds. Her heart breaks as Trixie sobs. This angel of light should not be crying. She should not be feeling any pain at all. She should live a life of happiness and ease. A life that Katya will do her best to give to her.

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

“You killed her.” Trixie trembles, fear vibrating through her body. Fear of Katya? No, She is not recoiling from her touch. She is not flinching as Katya rubs her arms down to soothe her. No she’s worried for Katya. The fear is not for her own life; it is for Katya’s. “Witch hunters can’t kill each other.”

“No, they can’t. They’ll notice she’s missing when the summer solstice arrives and Sasha isn’t there. Then they find the person responsible and then… well you know what happens.”

“Katya, what have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Oh my god, their going to kill you. Katya you have to hide, the solstice is in a week. They’ll come find you and when they smell witch hunter blood they will-”The thought is too much for Trixie. “NO. We have to hide you Katya. You can’t die, I wont let you. We’ll find a- “

“I’m going to the council.”

“What?”

“I’m going to council with Sasha’s body and they’re going to burn me at the stake.”

“WHAT?”

“If they find me in a week’s time I’m Just going to die a slower and more painful death. I either die by 66 cuts or burned at the stake. If I go early, they might be merciful. Also, if I go, they never know you existed. They never know that I…I…that I care about a witch. You deserve so much more than being a hostage for the rest of your life. You’re free to go You were free to go the moment I met you. You have shown me that witches are good. That witches are kind. That witches are not all that I was taught they were. I’ve killed so many innocent women, Trixie. If I’m dying, I deserve it.” She does deserve it. She deserves to burn at the stake like the many women she has killed have. They didn’t deserve to die. They have not reached into families and stolen daughters and mother’s. They are not a monster. Katya is a monster, not the witches. She deserves to die.

“No.”

“Trixie, my mind is made up. The area I found you is two miles east of this cottage. You are free, Trixie.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to go.”

“Trixie, there is no saving the damned.”

“You’re not damned. You are defeated, you’re giving up-“

“I’m not giving up, Trixie. I’m letting go of all the pain I have caused.”

“BUT YOU HAVN’T CAUSED ANY PAIN!”

“YES I HAVE!” Katya screams, tears dripping down her face. “I HAVE KILLED SO MANY WOMEN. WOMEN LIKE YOU. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I’M INNOCET. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME, I’M GOOD BECAUSE I’M NOT. I’M A MONSTER. A MONSTER WHO MURDERS-”

“NOT TO ME.” Katya pauses, her breath caught in her throat. “To me you are the witch hunter kind enough to spare my life while talented enough to take it whenever you wanted. You are the witch hunter who released me from my chains because you believed that this creature you were bred to hate is a good person and so you gave her a chance. You are the witch hunter that brings me back my favorite fruits that I KNOW are hard to find just to see me smile. You are the witch hunter who for some reason doesn’t know the difference between belladonna and mint. You are the witch hunter who sent a letter to my family for me so they wouldn’t be worried and pretended not to tell me because you didn’t want me to get attached to you. You are the witch hunter who didn’t scream or judge or yell at me when I cried or lashed out. You are the witch hunter who smiles and it feels like worlds are colliding in my chest. You are the witch hunter who’s touch makes me feel like nothing in the world can or will ever hurt me. You are the witch hunter who makes me feel safe when nothing in the world. And if that makes you a monster than I don’t know a person who isn’t one. You are one of the best people a know. You were made to be a weapon, Katya. It isn’t you’re fault for acting like one. But you are strong. You are so strong. You rose above the hatred they instilled within you and you said no. You said you will not kill this witch. You are kind. You are brave. You are everything that I didn’t know I needed and GODDAMNIT I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I THOUGHT WAS POSSIBLE. And if you die. If you walk into the lion’s den and I never see you again, I die too. If you die, I die. I have attached my heart with yours so if you burn it down, don’t think for a second that I can’t feel it!” Trixie stands there gasping, exhausted by the weight of her confession. She stands with tears dripping angrily down her face. She loves Katya, and she will be damned if Katya doesn’t know that. 

Katya lets out a soft chuckle as tears continue to fall down her eyes as she takes the taller girl by the waist and look her directly in her eyes. Trixie has the most beautiful eyes. To everyone else in the world she has plain eyes, boring eyes. To Katya the deep shade of brown is unlike anything she has ever seen before. It is yesterday, today and tomorrow. It is all she ever wants to look at. She raises her hand and strokes Trixie’s cheek as she brings them closer together, inhaling the air that Trixie exhales. She tastes like strawberries. Slowly she tilts her head to side. It would be so easy. SO easy just to merge their rosy lips together but she can’t.

“Katya, kiss me.”

“If I kiss you, my love. I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t. Run away with me.”

“And when they find me and burn you by my side? I will not let you die, you are my family, the light of my life. You are the kindness, the sorrow, the joy, the pain; you are all of it. I can’t let joy die. I can’t. You know this.”

“Don’t walk away from me, Katya.”

“I love you. I always will.” She turns away and walks into the kitchen, in her hands a tablecloth.

“No, Katya. Please don’t do this. I can’t do this without you, Please. PLEASE.” Trixie’s eyes droop as the herbs take over and she falls into a blissful sleep. She look so calm, so peaceful. Katya hoists her onto the sofa, buckling just a little at her weight, but she will die before she drops with heavenly angel.

The council room is cold. It is always cold. No matter the season or the whether, the council room is cold. And for the first time in her life, Katya feels warm when she enters it because she doesn’t feel fear. She has always felt fear at the eyes of the elders but not anymore. Now she feels a comfortable acceptance. She knows her face, she is here to die and she is not scared.

The elders of the respective regions sit on thrones mirroring their areas of ruling. Raja of the South, Chad of the East, Raven of the North and Bianca of the west. They sat, their initially warm eyes souring soon as they see the body Katya carries in her arms.

“Yekaterina Zamolodchikova.” Raja replied, her tone sour.

“Elders.”

“The solstice is in a week; we ask you what event of just urgency you had that you could not simply wait.”

“I am here to confess.”

“Confess to what, my child.”

“To the violation of Law number 73 and 4. I murdered Sasha Velour and am currently in relations with a witch.”

The court explodes into angered shouting as Raja desperately attempts to calm her fellow elders but Katya does not hear them. All she thinks of Trixie is her blissful, sleeping state. Her eyes closed, her body drifting off into the land of dreams. She was so peaceful. When she’s awake Trixie is always so nervous. Kind, beautiful, incredible, but nervous. In her sleep, she is serene. All the hardships of her life are forgotten and she can just exist. So beautiful. So serene.

“I don’t care if she _one of the best,_ Raja. SHE KILLED THE BEST WE HAVE.”

“Maybe imprisonment then? We send her to the cage for a couple decades and then she’ll come out- “

“’AND WHAT KIND OF PRECENDENT WOULD THAT SET?”

“Raven is right, Raja. She has to die. Otherwise people will forge the danger that witches have. The spells they cast. Zamolodchikova was one of our best, and a witch corrupted her. And now- “

“A witch didn’t corrupt me, Elder Bianca.”

“No? What did the witch do then.”

“The witch didn’t do anything. I kept the witch hostage in my cottage for a month and I fell in love with her. I saw what you cannot, maybe never will see.”

“And what would that be?”

“Witches are good, elder. They are kind, they are ugly, they are beautiful. They live and they breathe. They laugh and they cry. They are no better nor are they worse than us. They simply are. The witch I fell in love with is not a witch to me. To me, she is the most wondrous being in the world. She is everything I could ever want and more. She is the best person in my life. I am not ashamed for loving her, elders. I am anything but ashamed. I am proud, to stand in front of you a changed woman. A woman who loves and woman who has put down the flame.”

“Then you know what we have to do.”

“Yekaterina Zamolodchikova, the council charges you guilty with murder of a fellow witch hunter and treason. Your punishment is death.”

The council room is cold. It is always cold. No matter the season or the whether, the council room is cold. And for the first time in her life, Katya feels warm when she enters it because she doesn’t feel fear. She has always felt fear at the eyes of the elders but not anymore. Now she feels a comfortable acceptance. She knows her face, she is here to die and she is not scared.

The elders of the respective regions sit on thrones mirroring their areas of ruling. Raja of the South, Chad of the East, Raven of the North and Bianca of the west. They sat, their initially warm eyes souring soon as they see the body Katya carries in her arms.

“Yekaterina Zamolodchikova.” Raja replied, her tone sour.

“Elders.”

“The solstice is in a week; we ask you what event of just urgency you had that you could not simply wait.”

“I am here to confess.”

“Confess to what, my child.”

“To the violation of Law number 73 and 4. I murdered Sasha Velour and am currently in relations with a witch.”

The court explodes into angered shouting as Raja desperately attempts to calm her fellow elders but Katya does not hear them. All she thinks of Trixie is her blissful, sleeping state. Her eyes closed, her body drifting off into the land of dreams. She was so peaceful. When she’s awake Trixie is always so nervous. Kind, beautiful, incredible, but nervous. In her sleep, she is serene. All the hardships of her life are forgotten and she can just exist. So beautiful. So serene.

“I don’t care if she _one of the best,_ Raja. SHE KILLED THE BEST WE HAVE.”

“Maybe imprisonment then? We send her to the cage for a couple decades and then she’ll come out- “

“’AND WHAT KIND OF PRECENDENT WOULD THAT SET?”

“Raven is right, Raja. She has to die. Otherwise people will forge the danger that witches have. The spells they cast. Zamolodchikova was one of our best, and a witch corrupted her. And now- “

“A witch didn’t corrupt me, Elder Bianca.”

“No? What did the witch do then.”

“The witch didn’t do anything. I kept the witch hostage in my cottage for a month and I fell in love with her. I saw what you cannot, maybe never will see.”

“And what would that be?”

“Witches are good, elder. They are kind, they are ugly, they are beautiful. They live and they breathe. They laugh and they cry. They are no better nor are they worse than us. They simply are. The witch I fell in love with is not a witch to me. To me, she is the most wondrous being in the world. She is everything I could ever want and more. She is the best person in my life. I am not ashamed for loving her, elders. I am anything but ashamed. I am proud, to stand in front of you a changed woman. A woman who loves and woman who has put down the flame.”

“Then you know what we have to do.”

“Yekaterina Zamolodchikova, the council charges you guilty with murder of a fellow witch hunter and treason. Your punishment is death.”

Katya sighs.  
Trixie will live a long life. She will grow older and meet someone. Someone who makes her eyes twinkle the way they do when Katya shows her how to shoot s crossbow. Someone who looks at her and makes her feel like the world is still. Someone who makes her heartbeat until it feels like it can beat no longer. Someone who things are easy with, never hard. Someone who Trixie loves. She will laugh with her and cry with her and fight with her but she will move on. Katya will be a fond, but faraway memory of her youth. She will be okay. Why? Because Trixie is a fighter. She will not let life kill her, she will raise from the cold depths of her pain into the light of happiness were she will finally let go of Katya. She will grow old and tell her grandchildren of the witch hunter who kidnapped her. The witch hunter who fell in love with her. The witch hunter who will probably love her forever, even in hell. No Katya is not going to heaven. Heaven is a place where women like Trixie go. Angels go to heaven. And Katya is so angel. She will sit in hell, thinking of her every day and every night as the flames burn as bright as her love. Katya will burn at the stake. But she will burn loving the woman she was meant to hate. The woman she was meant to hate but fell in love with instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I use the word creatre a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this shit post


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